


Will Cooper is a Frustrating Idiot

by ryeloza



Series: So Here's the Thing [2]
Category: Single Parents (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M, Idiots in Love, Missing Scene, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:41:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24090745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryeloza/pseuds/ryeloza
Summary: Angie and Will get drunk and say some things they've been avoiding. A missing scene from "A Night of Delicate Frenching."
Relationships: Will Cooper/Angie D'Amato
Series: So Here's the Thing [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1738012
Comments: 29
Kudos: 52





	Will Cooper is a Frustrating Idiot

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place right after Will and Angie find the bottles of wine. Stylistic companion piece to my other story, "Tracy Freeze is a Big Fat Liar." You do not have to read that one first.

_So here's the thing_ , Angie thinks as she chugs down her mug of living room wine in a way that would make Poppy cringe, _Will Cooper is a frustrating idiot._

Okay, sure. She gets it. Of course the thought of her leaving makes him a little crazy. How could it not? She's awesome, and without her, life is empty and meaningless. Obviously.

And yeah, yeah, yeah, maybe it's also the fact that she's leaving Will alone for the second summer in a row for Derek, only this time maybe it's worse, because he doesn't have Tracy and she isn't trying to figure out how to tell Derek to go to hell. But if she can forgive Derek, she doesn't see why Will can't.

(She kind of likes that he can't. _No, shut up, Angie!_ )

 _Anyway_ , the point is, while she can understand how the thought of her leaving has driven Will insane, it doesn't mean he has the right to screw around with her life or tell her what to do or act like he knows what's best for her. He doesn't know anything. He thinks she's strong and smart and deserves everything (literally—he has used those words), and for like a split second, Angie maybe believed him. But the fact is, she's always been kind of a screw up, and maybe the best a kind-of-screw-up can hope for is another screw up who isn't much more than a beautiful dummy with a pet turtle.

(She's not really looking forward to the turtle, if she's honest. Turtles smell. And they think they're all that, carrying their homes on their back. Whatever, turtles.)

Will doesn't get that. He probably never will.

But it's fine. They've made a truce. They're going to spend one last night getting drunk together and he'll end up packing for her because her method of throwing everything in a box will make him crazy and eventually they'll have an awkward hug goodbye and that will be that.

* * *

An hour later, that is not that.

(Okay, maybe some of that is that. Like the getting drunk part. That has been very that.

But the packing and the hugging and the goodbye-ing? Not so much.)

In fact, neither of them has really moved much from where they settled in with the bottles of wine. Will is sitting across from her criss-cross applesauce, as the kids say, with one of the bottles in his hand. Every so often, he taps his fingers against the neck and heaves a sigh—Angie's taken to having a swig of her own bottle every time he does it because otherwise she might kill him.

It's kind of tense, actually, in a weird way. Normally they'd be swapping silly stories about the kids or their youth, or rehashing one of their favorite shows, or gossiping about their friends, but tonight Will's just doing his weird, disapproving sighing thing and she can't make the effort to lighten the mood. So they've just kind of been sitting in silence together.

It's frustrating. _He's_ frustrating. But whatever—she'd still rather be here, being frustrated by Will, than alone without him.

( _Whoa,_ she realizes, _I really am drunk. Sober Angie would not admit that. In fact, sober Angie is somewhere inside me, really not approving of that thought. Sober Angie is going hit that thought with a pick-axe and bury it deep down inside tomorrow._

_But pfsh. Sober Angie isn't here right now. So I can think whatever I want._

_Boogers._

_Hamburgers._

_Douglas is too tall._

_I wish Will had the balls to kiss me._

_Okay, shut up, Angie._ )

It's really not fair how those thoughts still sneak up sometimes. She's been trying so hard to move past all this because it's pretty clear that Will is never going to make a move, and every time she thinks she is, some unbidden thought pops into her head and reminds her that she's still stupidly into him.

Maybe it doesn't help that she keeps putting herself into these situations. Drunk with Will in a bed together. Drunk with Will at a bar. Drunk with Will on his couch while they're binge-watching a show. Now drunk with Will on her living room floor.

(Maybe she should stop getting drunk with Will.

No, that's worse. Then she starts thinking even more terrible thoughts—the kind of relationshippy thoughts that lead to sadness and longing. She'll take the frustrated horniness, thank you very much.

Plus—alcohol.)

She shakes her head a little like that'll get rid of the thoughts and peers over at Will. He's looking at her like she's some big mystery he can't solve—brow furrowed and frowning.

Or maybe he's still just sulking because she's leaving.

Who knows.

She takes another swig of her bottle, only to realize it's finally empty. Petulantly, she reaches out a hand toward Will's bottle.

"Hand it over."

"Get your own."

"That is my own, dummy. This is my house."

Even Will can't argue with that impeccable logic. He hands the bottle over and she takes a drink, only to discover that it's basically empty too. What the hell?

"You drank all my wine."

"You're the one who finished it."

Angie sticks out her tongue at him, and Will's eyes drop to her lips. Which, whatever. That's what anyone would do.

She's so busy telling herself that, that it catches her by surprise when Will suddenly moves, lurching into her personal space and settling his hands heavily on her shoulders. Her stomach does this swoopy thing and for a second she really thinks he's actually going to kiss her, but instead he just stares at her like a big weirdo.

"Angie." He clears his throat. "Angie. An-ge-la."

She lifts her hands to his wrists and stares back at him. "William."

He blinks and Angie frowns. If he pukes on her, she'll kill him.

There's a long pause where he appears to be working out what to say. His eyes can't seem to focus, drifting all around her face and still—obnoxiously—continually falling back on her lips. She feels like she can't breathe.

"Look, Angie," he finally says, falling back into that serious voice she is so not in the mood for right now. "I can't tell you what to do."

"Duh."

"I can't tell you not to date Derek even though you shouldn't because you are way too good for him."

"Ugh." Angie shrugs her shoulders, trying to shake him off, but Will tightens his grip and leans in a little closer.

"I know, Angie. I know. I know I can't. But there is one thing I can do."

Angie stops squirming, curious despite herself. Will is so close now, she can smell the wine on his breath. Somewhere deep down, she can hear sober Angie yelling at her that this is a bad idea.

"Oh yeah?"

Except it doesn't come out like she meant—like a challenge, like a sarcastic _Sure you can, Will Cooper._ Oh no. It comes out all breathy and sexy, and really, what the fuck is wrong with her?

And then, like the frustrating asshole he is, Will says, "I can take advantage of the fact that you're going to be gone all summer and finally get rid of that fucking printer."

Oh.

Hell.

No.

Angie tries to shove him, but at the same time, Will pushes her back and she tips over like some dumb cow, and then he's scrambling past her and it somehow dawns on her that by this summer he means now. She rolls ungracefully onto her hands and knees and crawls after him.

"Stay away from my printer, Will Cooper!"

"Nuh-uh. You go with Derek, the printer goes with me!"

"Are you ultimatuming me?"

Clumsily, he puts a hand on her coffee table and uses it to push himself up from the floor, but he's swaying and he doesn't have half the rage she does. She springs up enough to catch him by the waist, and then they both fall back to the floor. Her elbow bangs off of the coffee table and Will inadvertently tugs at her hair as they go down, but Angie barely feels it. She jumps on top of him, grabbing his wrists and pinning them to the floor and lets out a triumphant cackle.

"You're not touching my printer," she says. "In fact, I'll take it with me."

"Good! I hope you burn down Derek's house!"

"Ugh, what is your prob—"

And then—in that moment—Will finally does it.

He kisses her.

It's awkward as hell, honestly, because she's still got his hands pinned down and he's leaning up and the angle is all wrong, but none of that really computes because all she can think is:

_Will._

_Kiss._

_I am kissing Will._

_Fuck._

Without really meaning to, her grip on his wrists slackens and it gives Will the chance to free one of his arms to reach up and pull her down toward him, deepening the kiss. She lets him because she's drunk and stupid and it's _Will_ and if she's honest, she's been waiting for him to do this forever.

Of course he picked the worst possible moment.

Dumbass.

When he finally pulls back, his head thumps softly against the floor and he just _looks_ at her the way only Will ever does. His right hand is still resting on her back, between her shoulder blades, and she's suddenly overly aware that she's lying on top of him.

"Angie," he says—and oh God, it's that soft voice he uses with her sometimes, the one that gets under her skin and makes her believe all sorts of stupid shit like she can do anything. "Angie, when I came over here before—right before you told me about Derek—it was to tell you that I'm stupidly in love with you."

"Whaaaa?"

_Oh real smooth, Ang. Super eloquent._

Will just smiles a tiny smile and then his hand reaches up to push a strand of hair back from her face like they're in some stupid romantic comedy. "I have been for awhile now. A long while. And I've been too scared to tell you because I didn't want to mess things up or make it weird. I didn't want to lose you."

Angie honestly thinks her brain is short-circuiting. Will Cooper. Will Cooper is in love with her.

Like, yeah, okay, she knew he loved her in a friend way, and she even kind of knew that there were times he really wanted to kiss her, but _in love_ _with her_?

She doesn't think anyone has ever been in love with her. Not the real her, anyway. Not the Angie who burns down her house and gets people arrested on Christmas Eve and inspires a nine-year-old to shoplift. That Angie people get to know and roll their eyes at fondly or walk away from because they just can't take it anymore. They don't _fall in love_ with her.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'm very sure."

And suddenly, Angie can't take it. She can't look at his stupid face and watch him say these things or even begin to process what any of it means. She groans, dropping her head to his chest and burying her face in his shirt. She can feel herself fighting back tears. Stupid Will. Stupid, frustrating idiot.

His hand slips up to the back of her neck, his thumb rubbing against her skin, and Angie has to squeeze her eyes shut tight to keep those tears back. A couple leak out anyway.

"I'm sorry, Angie. I thought I could do it. I thought I could let you go without saying it and let you live your life. But I couldn't."

"You're such a jerk, Will."

"I know." She feels his lips press against the top of her head, kissing her. "Please don't go to Barstow."

She takes a deep breath, trying to discreetly rub her eyes against his shirt a little before she lifts her head. "I love you too, you know. And I've been trying really hard to get over it. For like a really long time now."

"You didn't say anything."

"You had a girlfriend. And then you were pushing me toward Colin. And away from Colin. I meant it before, Will. You're confusing. Our whole situation is confusing. And I don't want to end up like Poppy and Douglas."

"Me either."

"I don't want you to start resenting me because I'm spontaneous and irresponsible and messy."

"I like that you're spontaneous and irresponsible and messy." He frowns. "Mostly. Except for the printer. Angie, that thing really is dangerous."

Angie smiles in spite of herself. She wonders if he means it. She wonders if he can _keep_ meaning it if those things were in a relationship with them and not just in their friendship.

"Spontaneous and irresponsible and messy aren't _bad_ , Angie. My life has certainly gotten better because of those things. It's really possible that Sophie or I would be a literal ball of anxiety by now if we didn't have you making us embrace those things."

It's hard—almost embarrassing—to hear, and Angie has to fight the urge to turn it into a joke. Or maybe she can't. Maybe she can kind of almost admit that it may be true.

"Okay," she says, because maybe it is. Maybe it is okay for Will to say these things sometimes. And maybe it is okay for her not to run away from it.

"Okay," he echoes.

Angie nods once and then groans as she rolls off of Will onto the floor next to him. The room spins as she does so, and she suddenly remembers that they're both really drunk.

"Come on," she says, struggling to her feet and then holding out a hand to Will.

"Why?"

"Because we're too old to sleep on the floor. And I can't remember the last time I vacuumed."

Will scowls a little, but takes her hand and lets her help him up. She doesn't let go once he's standing, pulling him along behind her until they're in her bedroom. Without fanfare, she crawls into her bed, flopping down on the pillow and shutting her eyes.

"Uh—"

"Ugh, don't make it weird. Just get in here, okay?"

There's a long pause where she isn't sure if he's going to listen, but then she feels the bed dip under his weight and he quickly shifts around until he's lying next to her.

 _So here's the thing_ , she thinks as Will's arm settles around her waist. _Will Cooper is a frustrating, crazy, emotional idiot with terrible timing._

_And I'm the idiot in love with him._

**Author's Note:**

> I started this from Will's perspective, and then Angie horned her way in and demanded attention. Apparently I have a lot of Angie feelings. I do not read spoilers, so this is all just me wish-fulfillment guessing about what might have happened between the wine scene and the bed scene.
> 
> Thanks for reading! If you have a minute to comment, it will be much loved.


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